Tale As Old As Time
by superwhomerlock
Summary: Stiles isn't scared of the old Hale Castle. That is, until he goes in to impress Lydia and sees bright blue eyes staring at him. Now he can't get the thought of who those eyes belonged to out of his head. AU, Slash M/M
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the characters. I don't make any profit off of this and really only wrote it to: a) get the idea out of my head and b) procrastinate more in class. I hope you enjoy!

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Really, Stiles couldn't understand why people were so scared of Hale Castle. There had been a fire and the Hale family, who'd ruled over the tiny countryside, had died leaving a rather terrifying shell of a castle behind. Of course, this only made it the hot spot for teenage boys—daring each other to touch the gates of the castle, which were still a good fifty or more yards from the actual castle itself, before they ran off. On top of that, just to make the place even more horrifying, the villagers swore that on the full moon whatever beast inhabited the castle made so much noise that it could be heard all the way down to the village.

Stiles was definitely not the bravest person in the village, but he read books. Books gave him the confidence to know that there was nothing to be scared of in the creepy-looking castle. The history books were very straightforward. There was a fire. Everyone died. Tragic. It was a shame about what happened to the Hales but there was no reason to believe their ghosts or whatever was haunting around the scary house.

So, when the chance to impress Lydia, his childhood crush, came up, he immediately jumped at the chance. Girls liked brave guys, right? His best friend, Scott, had gone first, walking up to the gate, slightly skiddish before touching the iron gate and throwing his arms up in success when he didn't drop dead. He jogged back to a grinning girlfriend, Allison, who gave him a victory kiss. Stiles wrinkled his nose at the affection before Jackson smirked and turned to Lydia telling her to "watch this" before he strolled up and walked to the gate. Instead of just touching it, he pushed open the gates that gave a loud groan as they swung inward towards the castle. Jackson looked around cautiously before moving in and touching the large fountain that stood halfway between the gate and actual front doors to the castle before quickly running back towards the group. Throwing her arms around Jackson, Lydia planted a fat kiss onto his cheek as Stiles gave a huff. That should be his kiss. He could do better.

"Just the fountain? That's it?" Stiles mocked, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah. You think you can do better, Stilinski?" Jackson asked, shooting him a glare as he tightened his hold on the girl who was hanging all over him.

"I totally can!" The smaller male puffed out his chest as he walked rather awkwardly at the faux manliness he was trying to exude through the stature. He ignored the cries of, "Stiles! You don't have to do this!" from Scott and continued past the fountain. The more he walked, the more his mind began to reel. Maybe the books he took his confidence from weren't right … Maybe there was some sort of big bad beast that lived in the castle, just waiting to eat him. By the time he got to the stone stairs leading up to the giant wooden doors, his legs were shaking and all his confidence was gone. Why was he doing this again?

Oh yeah … A kiss from the fair Lydia.

He was so going to kill Scott for not stopping him from doing this.

Swallowing thickly, he shakily reached out, pushing the giant doors open. The thick slabs of wood slowly opened, giving the same loud groan that the gates had as they swung inwards. Once there was enough room for Stiles to get through, he slithered inside and looked around. The boy was actually surprised to see that it wasn't as badly destroyed as he first thought. In fact, it looked as though someone had been cleaning it over the past years since the fire. Of course, that was a stupid idea, no one came up here. Looking around, he found a curtain that still was marked by the fire that had engulfed the rest of the house and ripped off a piece of the cloth. Trophy. Actually, Stiles had grown his confidence back. There was no ghost that had come to scare him away, no beast to come shred his face to pieces, and no dead bodies just lying around. In fact, it was just big and creepy like he'd thought. Smiling to himself, he began to make his way towards the door to leave when he froze in place.

The funny thing about paranoia is that sometimes it isn't paranoia. Sometimes there really is a big bad beast just waiting to rip you to shreds. Getting the feeling that he was being watched, Stiles slowly looked over his right shoulder towards the staircase where electric blue eyes glared down at him. The bookworm felt his mouth go dry. He silently hoped that the only thing he was looking at was a panel of one of the many stained glass windows that littered the walls. If only he was that lucky, right? Whatever it was blinked. _Blinked_. Definitely not a stained glass window. Just as Stiles was about to open his mouth to let out a sound—any sound—the thing begun to growl. Stiles ran face-first into the giant wooden door as he attempted to make his way out of the castle. He fell back on his butt before scrambling towards the door on all fours, damn near falling down the stone steps as he screamed at his friends to run. Thankfully he didn't have to tell them twice. By the time they all caught up, they were in the village square, panting as they sat on the edge of the village's fountain.

"W-What … did you see in there … Stiles?" Scott asked, trying to regain his breath.

Stiles was silent for a moment before he remembered the electric blue eyes he had seen. There was no way they belonged to some sort of creature—they'd looked too human, but there was no way those were human eyes. Human eyes didn't _glow_. "I-I don't know … I-it was … There were _eyes_ … and … something _growled_ at me!"

Jackson rolled his eyes at the other, "You're probably just making shit up."

"I'm not!" Stiles squeaked out. "Why would I make something up like that? 'Oh hey guys, let's just run for our lives for fun!' Because that's totally what I like to do for fun! Don't you Scott?" He questioned, not even pausing to let Scott answer, "I SAW SOMETHING. I don't know what it was, Jackson, but it was real!"

"It's okay, Stiles …" Allison said, throwing a scowl at Jackson, "we believe you."

Jackson shut up and left to go to the village tavern with Lydia. Scott and Allison had said that they had a dinner-date with Allison's family (Stiles was fairly certain that her family hadn't completely approved of Scott courting her yet) and left Stiles to be on his own. Kicking the ground a bit, he immediately went to his home, digging through his history books to try to get more backstory on Hale Castle. Maybe he had missed something?

He hadn't even got his victory kiss from Lydia.

Reading long into the night, Stiles couldn't find anything that he didn't already know. The Hale family had been rather big and all lived within the castle—including the King's brother and his family. The details were rather sketchy, but the fire had broken out late one night and everyone had been killed. A few of the head honchos of the village had checked through the wreckage once the fire had been put to rest and broke the news to the village that the family had been completely wiped out. Those same men had decided to run the village. Chris Argent, Allison's father, had been one of those men. Stiles certainly couldn't complain about the way they ran it—it wasn't bad and it wasn't like he could remember when the Hale's ran the village, so really, it was all he knew.

Stiles was a bit disappointed that he couldn't find anything new in the books he poured over. Research and reading was his _thing_. His usual hyperactive mind was soothed when his eyes scanned darkened pages of a good book. Groaning out, he threw the book across the room, which only achieved his father popping his head into his room.

"Stiles? You okay?"

"Dad!" He squeaked out, not even sure why his voice had gone to that pitch. "Hey dad! I didn't even hear you come in. Usually you slam the front door but, not today, I guess!"

The older male moved into the room with a chuckle, "I thought you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you up." His father worked as the chief of security in their village, making sure criminals came to justice. Stiles admired him to no end. "But, of course, I should've figured that you were awake …" The older male picked up the book that Stiles had thrown, seeing its title before sighing and putting the book to the side. "You know there's nothing at that castle … Just memories of a different time."

"I know, I know … But it's still interesting to read about!"

"Not more interesting than sleep, I hope?"

"Nah … I'm going to sleep right now …" Stiles said, giving his dad his warmest smile. "Night dad!"

The elder Stilinski gave a nod in response before leaving. Stiles let his whole body slump and fall back onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered if maybe there were more books at the bookstore that he had missed. No, there was no way. He'd made sure that he had bought all the books the small store had to offer long ago. Figuring that there was no more he could do that night, he slid under his blankets, tossing and turning until he had cocooned himself in the fabric before settling down, closing his eyes and letting himself slip into a deep sleep.

Stiles' sleep had been anything but restful. His dreams had been haunted by a creature with bright blue eyes stalking him through the forest, even following him home and watching him in his room. Three times he'd woken up, covered in sweat and shaking all over, only to fall back asleep and right back into the creature's arms. By the time morning came, he was groggy and sluggish; something foreign to him, but he wasn't surprised thanks to his night. He'd spent several nights in a row awake before feeling better than this, but he supposed that running from a creature every sleeping moment did that to a person.

The only thing that Stiles knew was that he had to go back to that castle.

It was a bad idea. Terrible, really. He knew it, Scott knew it, and yet there he was, throwing supplies into a bag, ignoring Scott yelling at him to stop what he was doing. "I'm going!" He huffed out.

"I'm going and if I don't come back well then you can have my book collection. Except the first editions. And the second editions. Actually, you can just throw all my books into the grave they make for me, you can have my shirts … but not my favorite shirt. But hey! I'm totally gonna be completely a-okay! No need to worry!" Stiles blurted out with little more than a breath of air.

Scott gave a small smile at his friend's speech, "I'm just worried … I mean … You know what they say about that place—and what you saw!" Stiles knew what he saw. That was his main reason for going to the damn castle in the first place! He needed to know what it was and maybe there'd be some answers there (or a vicious man-eating beast, whatever). "Can't you just wait until tomorrow? When I don't have another dinner-date with Mr. Argent and family?"

"No man! I need to know what it is _now_," Stiles slung the pack over his shoulder, giving his best friend a smile. "I'll be fine … Be back by tomorrow or write you a letter or smoke signals or something …"

Scott shook his head, "You better be back here by tomorrow. If not, I'm coming to find you. It's what friends are for."

Stiles couldn't contain the smile that simply spread more over his face. Even if Scott was an idiot and pretty much spending all his time lip-locked to Allison, he was a good friend. The best he could ask for, really. He gave Scott a small half salute before literally running out the front door, not caring that he left his best friend alone in his house without bothering to show him out. Stiles ran the entire way to the castle, only pausing a few times to catch his breath or take a drink break so that he could continue on his way. Once he reached the gates, he noticed that they were closed again. There was no way that the wind blew them closed and he was positive that they had left them wide open when they had all ran for their lives. That definitely didn't put him at ease. _Something_ closed that gate. Swallowing his fear, he pushed the gate open and walked slowly back up the walkway to the stone staircase, praying that he wouldn't die in the castle and add to its body count.

It took all his courage to open the large wooden doors again and walk inside. The same grinding noise of hinges met his ears before he closed the door behind him. "H-Hello?" He called out. "Big, meanie, scary thing, y'there?" He thanked whatever angel that was watching over him that nothing actually answered him back. He fumbled around in his pack until he pulled out a candle and matches, lighting them so that he could actually see. Stiles moved from room to room, touching everything in sight. Burnt furniture, broken teacups, burnt and tattered books—not the books!—and so much more. Some rooms didn't seem as burnt out as others. He wasn't quite sure if that was because the fire hadn't gotten there or if because someone had started to clean them. However, there were a few rooms where Stiles could see and smell that cleaning had been going on—one of the rooms being a massive library. "Oh … Jackpot!" He called out, running his fingers over a few book spines.

Stiles grabbed a book that had a softer spine, grinning even more as it read 'JOHN HALE—JOURNAL' in bold letters across the front. John Hale had been the King and here Stiles was with his journal. Oh this was just fantastic! Immediately his fears of things that go bump in Hale Castle were forgotten and he plopped down onto a couch. He was nose deep in the book and didn't notice the eyes that were trained on him until the person they belonged to was breathing down his neck, growling as the deep voice shook him to the core.

"Why are you in my castle?"

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**Author's Note:** I've never written a Sterek fic before. Honestly, Stiles is a hard character to write. Browsing around tumblr, I got the idea for this and, well, had to write it. Yes, it's going to be a loosely-based Beauty and the Beast sort of story. Hopefully this wasn't horrifyingly disappointing for you to read and that you actually enjoyed it. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out—possibly by next week, though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the characters. I don't make any profit off of this and really only wrote it to: a) get the idea out of my head and b) procrastinate more in class. I hope you enjoy!

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_"Why are you in my castle?"_

Dear sweet baby Jesus.

Stiles literally flew off the couch. He was sure that if he had wings he probably would have gone much further. He was mid-calculating just how far, given his body weight and the wingspan he would have had just _how_ far when he remembered why he was on the floor in the first place. Stiles scrambled backwards, away from the imposing male figure with short black hair and damn good looks (it really was the only way to put it in Stiles' mind) that stood behind the couch, glaring at him with what had to be the best glare he'd ever seen.

_Glare champion_.

"I said …," The male started, stalking over to him as if he owned the place… Oh right …, "Why. Are you in my castle?" Stiles couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but he was _fairly_ certain that he'd heard a growl accompanying that last sentence.

"I-I … I just … H-Hey! This can't be _your castle_. It belongs to the Hale family and all of them are dead unless you're like a zombie or something and—" Stiles paused as he saw the predatory glare the male was giving him, "…pleasedon'teatme."

The glare champion standing before him simply gave a snort at Stiles' rushed words before moving closer to inspect him, eliciting a whimper from Stiles'. "This _is_ my castle. You're trespassing."

"O-Okay! I'm trespassing! Trespassing is what I'm doing! Trespassing superstar!" Stiles froze, seeing the way the other's eyes narrowed as he began to babble. "C-Can I just go then? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry and whipped cream and—"

"Do you _ever_ stop talking?"

Oh god … the longer he stayed there, the more he could sense that the guy standing just a foot or so away from him was going to kill him. Maybe he could sneak out of there. Stiles was pretty fast, he was faster than Scott and Jackson at least (unless the two of them had always been going easy on them, which he somehow felt that was a plausible explanation). Plus, he was young and nimble … He could totally outrun the creep standing near him. That kind of thinking led to Stiles kicking off the ground, book still in hand as he made a mad dash to the front door. This, in turn, led to Stiles being pushed up against the wall, Sir Creeps-a-lot pinning him to the wooden frame. He was fast.

"Just where are you going?"

"Y-You … I thought you didn't want me in the castle, so I was going to leave? I can't trespass if I'm not in the castle, right?" Stiles questioned, giving a half laugh.

"You're not leaving," the now-elevated-to-psycho male in front of him said.

"_What_?" the boy squeaked out. "N-no … no no no … I can't stay. My dad'll be looking for me … And Scott! Scott too! I can't let him think I'm dead and bury all my books in the ground …" Just the thought of Scott being an idiot and saying he was dead before even looking for him then burying his books in the ground made him whimper. Perfect waste of good books.

"You've seen too much …"

Oh no … He really was going to die. "W-wait! Seriously! Y-You can't kill me … I mean, then I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you!"

The male honestly seemed to take this into consideration. "You'll become my maid then. _Someone_ needs to help me tidy up …" Creeper McGrump-pants grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt collar, dragging him up the stairs. Stiles could do little more than give a little yelp in surprise, clutching the journal closer to his chest. He'd tripped over a few of the stairs, only to be tugged back to his feet by the shirt the other was holding. As soon as they'd gotten up the stairs, they took a sharp right and Stiles was being thrown into a surprisingly clean room. Maybe the fire hadn't quite gotten to all the rooms on the second floor? There were never complete specifics in the books he read. After all, he'd heard that it was a burnt out shell and yet here was a room that had minimal scorch marks on the walls. Looking around, he saw his captor starting to make his way back towards the door and he reached out to grab his arm, immediately regretting the action when King Glare had turned to give him that signature look (Stiles was beginning to think this guy only owned that one expression). He yanked his hand back to his body, clutching the journal closer, "… I ha-have to go home! You can't keep me here! You—I don't even know who you are!"

"Derek Hale," the figure said. "_Prince_ Derek."

Stiles' jaw dropped open. He'd read about the other. Derek had been next in line for the crown. He had been an amazing strategist as well as a negotiator (if not a bit cold towards his potential wives at the different celebrations that the Hale family threw). The only problem was that Derek was supposed to be nothing more than a name in a history book! The Hale family had all _died_. That was what he'd read! It had to be true! Unless … Someone had been lying? It was possible that someone had written the history books wrong … but all of them? It was something he was itching to research, but there was one problem. "I-… I need to get home … _Prince_ Derek."

"You're not leaving. You're on my land and I need a maid—the other maids died in the fire. You're the first one to brave coming up here so … _Congratulations_. You're the lucky winner." Derek never once changed that grim expression. Though, Stiles had thought that maybe he saw the other's lip quirk up into the slightest of smirks as he said he was the winner?

"You're supposed to be dead!"

That stopped Derek in his tracks. Turning to face Stiles completely, he moved swiftly and had the other pinned against the wall by his throat. "Well I'm _not_, now _am_ I? I'm alive and well. You're going to be the maid of the house and you'll like it. Now … Open your mouth again … and I'll rip your throat out. Got it?" Derek held Stiles until the statue-like boy finally gave a quick nod, his lips tightly pressed together so he wouldn't accidentally let out a noise. Dusting his hands off, he motioned to the lavish room. "This will be your room. There's some extra clothes in the dressers—things that managed to be saved. I expect my dinner at seven _sharp_." The prince seemed to go over this in his head for a moment, determining this was an acceptable 'intro to being Derek Hale's maid' before heading towards the door. Stiles thought he was free finally, but as soon as Derek had reached the door, he stopped and turned. "… Oh … And if you try to leave—I'll make sure you're just food for the wolves that live in the forest."

Derek let the threat linger in the air as he left, leaving Stiles to finally let his legs give out under him and fall to his knees. Now he was a prisoner in some creepy ass castle, with a creepy ass zombie as his kidnapper, and …

He was going to be in _so_ much trouble whenever he got home.

Stiles had been trying to figure out a way to escape when he realized just what time it was. If he was going to have to make the Prince some food and _not_ get his throat ripped out, he was going to have to start immediately. Just great. It took him nearly fifteen minutes just to figure out where the hell the kitchen was and another ten after that just to find food and spices to go into the stew he was planning. Thankfully the thing was finished by seven and he'd had it dished out. Walking out into the dining room, he was planning on seeing Derek waiting for his meal but was greeted by a half burnt table.

For someone who wanted his meal at such a certain time, shouldn't he have been sitting there waiting? He figured he was going to regret it, but he started off into the castle, looking around for the mysterious Prince. A thousand questions swirled around in Stiles' mind and he knew it was going to take everything in his body not to pounce on him and drown him in the questions as soon as he found him.

Stiles swore he must have been walking for an hour and checked a hundred—no…two hundred!—rooms before he found one that was a little more set off than the others. The door was already cracked open so he poked his head in. He saw Derek sitting in front of what had to be the prettiest rose that Stiles had ever seen; and he had seen a lot, mainly from the time, a couple years back, where he'd spent a week trying to find the perfect rose for Lydia only to be upstaged by a brand new horse from Jackson. That asshole. Derek seemed to be seriously focused on the rose to the point where Stiles felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment. He cleared his throat from the doorway, which only caused Derek to jump up and stand guard over the flower before realizing who it was.

"What are you doing in here?" Derek immediately demanded, stomping forwards, causing Stiles to back against the wall, trying not to spill the tray with the food.

"Y-You said s-seven sharp! A-and you weren't there s-so I brought your food and … y-you're not gonna rip my throat out … right?"

Derek took a moment to register the food before nearly shoving Stiles out of the room. He closed the door tightly before locking it with an iron key. "You don't _ever_ go in there, got it?"

"Y-Yeah … got it." Stiles watched as Derek reached out and took a spoonful of the soup before scowling at the taste of it, which only made Stiles terrified about that whole throat-ripping-out scenario becoming a reality once again.

"It's _cold_."

Seriously? He couldn't believe this guy! "I just spent like … an hour trying to find you! Of course it's cold! It doesn't _magically_ stay hot!"

Not noticing the way that Derek had flinched at the mention of 'magic', he simply began to stalk back to the kitchen, Derek hot on his heels. He emptied the contents of the bowl back into the pot, starting to stir it to warm it back up. It took Derek a while to make sure that Stiles wasn't doing any sort of voodoo over the pot before retreating to the dining room to wait for his food, leaving Stiles to his thoughts. He couldn't get over how beautiful the rose in the glass container was. If he got that for Lydia … Well, surely she'd be his! The only problem with that plan was the fact that Prince Glarek the Great would maul him to death one way or another if he got near that door. Not to mention that he'd just locked the door and he doubted that the Prince left that key anywhere in the open for anyone to get to it.

As soon as the stew was ready once again, he poured some into the bowl and brought it out to Derek who seemed to be staring at nothing. "Your dinner, your majesty …"

Derek raised a brow at the title, but said nothing. Instead he tried the stew as Stiles prepared for him to get upset and throw it everywhere or something. The younger male was pleasantly surprised when he wasn't criticized for his stew. On the contrary, Derek seemed to be gobbling it down as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. "How did you survive?" Stiles managed to blurt out before using the tray he was holding to block anything that Derek was going to throw.

"Long story."

"Obviously I have time since _someone_ refuses to let me go home at all!"

Derek paused, glaring at the other before continuing his soup. "I wasn't home at the time. That's how."

It was blunt, very matter-of-fact and Stiles knew that he shouldn't ask any more. That 'that's how' was a threat just by itself; and yet, that didn't stop Stiles' big mouth from opening and going on, "But all the books I've read said they found your body! I mean, you were there! They could tell by your clothes—so either you're definitely a zombie or you're not really Derek Hale."

At this, Derek slammed his spoon on the table before standing up. He began to unbutton his shirt as Stiles turned red. "W-Whoa, slow down buddy … what're you—" He paused as Derek turned to reveal a large marking on the upper part of his back.

"You know what this is," it was a statement, not a question.

"That's …the Hale family's symbol. I mean, I would've picked something more fancy … I heard the king from the neighboring kingdom has a—" Stiles paused as he was once again on the end of the other's glare. Seriously … How many times could one guy get glared at?

"There's all the proof that you need that I'm part of this family. And if I was a zombie, I'd have parts of me hanging off—which I don't." Derek had a point there. No one would _dare_ to have that symbol burned onto them, it was something that was extremely painful and it could have them killed in the most unpleasant way imaginable if they were caught with it. Stiles watched as Derek sat down, finishing off his stew with Stiles in a stunned silence. When Derek was done, he stood, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Clean this mess up then get back into your room. Understood?" When Stiles didn't respond, he grabbed the other's arm, "_Understood_?"

Stiles gave a quick nod before going to clean everything up and hurry off to his room before the Prince of Creepers could attack him for something he did or didn't do again. He lay in the bed, sighing as he thought about how wrong that day had gone. All he had wanted to do was try to find out about the creature with bright blue eyes and now he was _Derek Hale_'s maid. His dad was probably angrily storming up and down the streets trying to find him by now. Maybe he could sneak out the window? No, that was probably impossible … It was an extremely long way down to the ground. He'd just have to sit and suffer until he could come up with a better plan. Plus … He was just exhausted. The only thing that he wanted to do was sleep. Covering himself completely with the warm covers, he thought he heard a wolf howling in the distance as he sunk into a deep sleep.

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**Author's Note:** I apologize for any mistakes, first off. I edit this completely by myself and its finals season so my brain's a little destroyed. Secondly, oh wow, I was so not expecting all the positive feedback I've received from you guys. So here's a chapter up earlier than I'd expected it to be up. I'm glad that so many of you are enjoying it and I hope I don't let you guys down at all. The next chapter might possibly give a bit more background on what happened with the Hale family in this verse. Thank you guys so much, again, for reading!


	3. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Don't worry everyone, I haven't forgotten about this fanfic. I started a new job that has me working around 30 some hours a week (much, much different than the job where I was lucky to get 10 hours a week). I also run the Notes from Sterek blog on Tumblr (url: notesfromsterek) which takes a lot of time as well, so I haven't had the time to sit and plot out the story the way that I want it to go (I wouldn't want to just slap it together haphazardly). This is the reason for my lack of posting. This story is something that I really want to put work into, not like the one shots that I post (not to say that I don't put effort into those, but one shots aren't really something you have to think too much into). So I apologize to those of you who are eagerly waiting for an update to this story. I will get to it as soon as I am able to.

- Koi


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